Random Act of Kindness
by Lesmis13
Summary: He never saw something like this in his life. There were no tears or remorse in his eyes; it was just apathy. Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe. Brief take on what will happen to the Igbo tribe five years in the future.


**(A/N: Hi everyone! This is one of the two short stories that I had to write for World Literature class. The point of this story is to write new chapter for _Things Fall Apart_, explaining what would happen to Igbo tribe five years after the European settlers come to their village. I am actually surprised about the good grade I got on this, which is a ninety three, because everyone in my class wrote their stories based on the major characters, while I used a character like the Commissioner. I found my inspiration to write this because _Things Fall Apart_ ended with the Commissioner's point of view, and the fact that he titled his book, _The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger_. Anyways, enjoy! :) ) **

It took five years for him to organize his experiences, but at last, the Commissioner was able to finish his book. He smiled at his work before sending it out in the mail, feeling proud of himself. He believed his book, which he crudely titled _The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger_, would become a best seller in Europe, especially England. He could probably use his book to educate the Igbo people at the English school. At that thought, the Commissioner smiled at himself. It would be a grand idea, he had come to find. It would simply be a great idea. He collected himself and headed out the door. He was on his way to town hall.

Two years after the suicide of Okonkwo, the majority of the Igbo people gave up on their gods for guidance and converted to Christianity. The minority of the Igbo people, who chose to stay faithful to their gods, isolated themselves from the Christians. The settlers were happy about this, but with the number of Christian converts steadily increasing by the second, they had no choice but to tear down several tribes' villages and build towns with a church in the center of it. The settlers got rid of the Igbo's old tradition; they set up rules and regulations, established a new currency, and founded schools where the Igbo people could learn how to speak English. It was then during that time, the settlers had elected the Commissioner as leader. He took the position without any doubts; he believed he was the right person for the role. He knew a lot more about the people than any other of his fellow kinsmen.

He walked down the relatively new sidewalk, which was a little dirty and had some cracks in it, but still sparkled the way it did when it was paved three years ago. The Commissioner looked around the town. The huts and "primitive" ways of the Igbo people were no longer there instead there were big townhouses that could hold up to four families, stores that sold numerous items such as clothes, and shoes, and a town center. Flowers of different varieties graced the grass covered ground. The Igbo people wore civilized clothes and shoes, and they spoke English to each other rather than their native tongue. Even though they spoke in heavy accent and mispronounced some of the English words, the Commissioner was pleased. They were improving, and that was good news because he saw that his leadership skills were paying off and in a couple of more years and so, the Igbo people would be just like him and his kinsmen.

He took a detour and stopped in front of the church, which the Igbo people had affectionately called Mr. Brown's church, he shook his head contently at the name before walking inside. Inside, in the upper right corner of the church was Isaac, kneeling in front of a statue of Jesus. The Commissioner sighed and walked towards the young man. He heard from Obierika, Okonkwo's close friend, that Isaac was Okonkwo's former son, Nwoye. Apparently, there was a conflict between the two and they never spoke again. The Commissioner wondered if the boy knew that his father had committed the ultimate taboo, and ended his life too soon. He placed a hand on the young man's right shoulder. Isaac turned his head towards him, and quickly stood up.

The young man bowed his head in shame. "I am sorry, Commissioner, I was too occupied with my prayers that I did not see you."

The Commissioner smiled and guided the young man to one of the pews and sat in the middle of it so the both of them would face the crucifixion. "It is alright, boy. Actually, I wanted to have a word with you."

"A word with me; what happened?"

"Nothing happen but something did happen in the past." The Commissioner watched as Isaac's eyes turned from a worried expression to an apathetic one. Isaac did not respond so the Commissioner continued. "Your father –"

Isaac cut him off. "I do not have a father. I am sorry to take up your time." He said firmly. He was about to get up and leave, but the look on the Commissioner's face stopped him in his tracks. He froze and let the Commissioner talk.

"As I was saying, five years ago, your father, Okonkwo had killed a man and then killed himself. Did you know that?"

Isaac shook his head.

"Of course not," The Commissioner nodded his head. "His friend, Obierika, had told me that it was my fault that your father killed himself when he asked me to bury him. Do you think so, Nwoye?"

Isaac shuddered at that name. His birth name, oh how he hated that name. It was the name that he had not heard in such a long time. It was the name his father had given him and for that he hated it. He gulped and collected himself. "He brought that on himself. He was always a brash and impulsive person. I believe whatever circumstance that he thrown himself into was his own fault." He said firmly.

The Commissioner hummed. He never saw something like this in his life. There were no tears or remorse in his eyes; it was just apathy. Maybe he should postpone his book and write a sequel to Okonkwo's paragraph length story. The story of the former son of the man who killed a messenger and hanged himself would be such a better ending to his book. The Commissioner was about to say something but was cut off when a church nun tapped Isaac on the shoulder. The two talked in hushed voice, and suddenly, Isaac's eyes turned from apathy to sympathy.

Isaac turned to the Commissioner. "Mr. Smith died."

"What?"

"He was sick and he died this afternoon." Isaac stood up and walked to the statue of Jesus and prayed.

The Commissioner stood and headed towards the door. There was nothing else to talk about. When he was near the exit, Isaac called out to him.

"Commissioner, why talk to me about him?"

The Commissioner did not turn around. His hand was on the door knob. "Let's just say it was a random act of kindness. After all, your father was a great man or so I heard."

"He was not."

"Well, I guess all things fall apart, sometimes." The Commissioner walked out of the door. He headed to the town hall. There were still things he had to do.


End file.
